


Common Ground

by levitatethis



Category: Heroes - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Angst, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-17
Updated: 2010-05-17
Packaged: 2017-10-09 12:50:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/87678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/levitatethis/pseuds/levitatethis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the future, Sylar works with Adam to broach a tentative alliance with old enemies while Mohinder finds himself caught on the outside.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Common Ground

**Author's Note:**

> this was mostly written before I saw the prompt from jessi_br00t4l : "Well, I suppose you know me best", which just seemed to fit so...

Cluttered conversations dissect the room along invisible tangents. Words pile a top each other, trying to claim prominence in a multi-sided debate during which no one seems to be listening.

Partnerships of convenience have depended on ethical compromises made with resistance, but made nonetheless. Ideological arguments dog every decision; each move is a struggle forward.

In the midst of loaded words it is the two silent voices that engage in a conversation their eyes have unintentionally learned to speak fluently over the years. From across the room, separated by the battle in the middle, these conversations have come to exist in their own realm.

Peter is loudly restating a point for what feels like the five hundredth time while Hiro adamantly refuses to budge in his opposition. Bennet interrupts regularly in an authoritative tone with scepticism over Adam's latest offer of a truce only to be met with Claire's defiant defence of Peter to at least re-examine the terms.

It is easy for them to forget that Mohinder is listening to it all explosively unfold. He stays back, keeping his eyes steady on Sylar. The bearer of the newest offer stands near the bookshelf on the far side of the room flipping through pages surrounded by hard coverings, hardly disguising that his own eyes are focused on Mohinder.

There had been a time during the earliest of meetings when Mohinder had been far more outspoken, going on the offensive and getting into Sylar's face. For awhile Mohinder had tried to argue that if Sylar was willing to work with Adam Monroe then Adam's motives were most likely not beneficial to all of them.

Mohinder's voice, however, had been drowned out soundly by Peter's insistence that he knew Adam better than the rest of them. It was a point that Hiro firmly objected to, still smarting from the sting of betrayal his father's killer had dealt him made only worse by the knowledge that Adam was no longer six feet underground serving out a life sentence. Still, Peter stubbornly argued that if they proceeded carefully they could keep control of the situation.

As a collective the group tended to focus on the man who was not there but managed to call the shots. Mohinder's adversary, on the other hand, was always present in the room. He imagined it never occurred to them the resolve it took on his part to have this concerns about Sylar so readily swept aside for what the rest of the group felt were more important issues. Of everyone it was Sylar's watchful eyes that told Mohinder he, at least, understood.

Occasionally Mohinder would be unable to hold back his frustrations and his calculated taunts describing Sylar as no more than a messenger, an errand boy, would find their mark in wounded, but angry pride. Sylar would respond with cruelly spoken mentions of Chandra, Dale, Zane, and the list.

The near fistfights would find them both sent to their respective corners, chastised like children while the grownups argued. Mohinder despised the condescension with which they treated his past with Sylar, as if it could not compete with what any of them had been through with the same man. The unspoken demand was that if they could all find a way to tentatively work with Sylar then Mohinder was expected to do the same.

Mohinder learned quickly, although not as fast as Sylar, that his own interests were best met by staying back (only offering one or two insightful observations per meeting which would then spur on another round of debates) while the others belligerently mulled over potential negotiating points for unclear alliances as they all moved towards somewhat similar goals but with different methods of operation.

It did not mean that Mohinder and Sylar spoke openly with each other, but their expressive eyes—wide and wondering, squinting in confusion, rolling with humour or irritation, focused with anger—and slew of expressions—pursed lips, grimaces, smirks, crinkled brows, shoulder shrugs, head shakes—found an answering counterpart in the other. More often than not their muted conversations indicated they were more in tune with each other than Mohinder was with his comrades or Sylar was with the message he carried.

The irony of such a bond was as much a result of the strained past as it was the surprise of Sylar's presence at the first meetings. Impromptu by nature, Mohinder only knew that the first get together, like each one that subsequently followed, began with Peter suddenly popping up in front of him. Grabbing Mohinder's shoulder Peter teleported them away to some place that Mohinder still remains clueless about location wise.

Sylar's face had been the first to greet Mohinder and where Mohinder's unguarded expression had conveyed his shock that any of them was in touch with Sylar, Sylar's reaction had revealed his surprise that no one had bothered to inform Mohinder he would be there in the first place. With repetition there is a decrease in the discombobulated feeling that overcomes Mohinder at suddenly having Sylar before his eyes with months of nothing in between.

What is still posing a test to Mohinder's emotional state is Peter's inability to transport the two of them directly to the secret location. Instead every trip comes accidentally byway of someplace else and not all are safe and benign.

An Egyptian prison, Stonehenge, a shanty town outside of Johannesburg, a Tel Aviv restaurant, a West Bank checkpoint, a Lebanese nightclub.

If Mohinder thought Peter as pilot meant they would get a chance to talk he quickly learned that his own concerns should be on remaining physically in contact with Peter, trying to avoid them both being seen and possibly killed, while Peter' s overwhelming frustrations made him curse under his breath, squeeze his eyes shut and transport them away again.

Mohinder has learned to be grateful that the last few trips have, at the very least, kept them in the current year. Almost being guillotined; shackled, burned at the stake were the initial missteps ingrained in Mohinder's mind.

Sylar's amusement at seeing Mohinder appear each time was consistently tempered by his concern over Mohinder's look of disarray, eyes shooting about as if ascertaining that he and Peter were finally in the right place. Sylar would stare with furrowed brow at Mohinder, silently asking _"Are you okay?"_ Mohinder would tilt his head in Peter's direction and give a subtle roll of his eyes to Sylar indicating _"Yes, but Peter is still going to get us killed one day."_

In a pattern of pre-designed steps they would then cross by each other while the discussion at hand, already begun by Bennet and Hiro who always arrived first with Claire in tow, grew louder.

Sylar did not feel the need he once did to control the discussion. Their plans never put his well being in peril and with Mohinder to settle his attentions on Sylar found it easy to step back and make note of any bits of relevant points that may interest Adam. Mostly he listened for drops of information that he could use to his own advantage.

It was a welcome curiosity how Mohinder picked those up as well and indicated through tightly pressed lips and a precisely directed gaze that he knew what Sylar was thinking and was either vehemently opposed or wondering about the possibilities that such a chain of action would result in.

Two hours into tonight's meeting and Mohinder can sense only limited progress in the debate over following Adam's directive to focus on the Tokyo based operation of The Company, specifically an Alistaire Murikami.

Whether it is Claire's influence or Peter is actually making a valid point, Bennet seems to be leaning in the direction of agreeing to such a move. Hiro, ever the holdout, keeps walking towards Mohinder uttering that Adam "is a very bad man—very bad," and that Mohinder "saved me in the future—you do the right thing—this is trouble."

Knowing Sylar, Mohinder is inclined to agree with Hiro. However the others are not looking for his opinion right now and his support of Hiro is mostly symbolic. No matter what is decided Mohinder understands he will be expected to follow suit in some way.

Mohinder silently agrees to the expectations placed before him as it keeps him in the loop where he can take the time to figure out his own position. In hope of keeping everything from potentially exploding down the line, Mohinder keeps his position visually neutral.

Sylar knows better.

Eyes on Mohinder, Sylar slowly turns the pages of the book he is holding. On page 159 he guides the palm of his right hand across the page and closes the book.

"If you're through with this fascinating meeting of the minds I need to be heading out. What answer am I taking with me?" Sylar loudly interrupts.

Before anyone can say anything Peter looks at Sylar and says, "We're in—when do we meet next to discuss specifics?"

Sylar smugly smiles. "Good—I'll be in touch."

He begins his confident stride towards the door while Bennet and Hiro instantly demand answers from Peter for speaking on their behalf with no clear consensus in place. At the door Sylar stops and walks back towards the bookshelf. He catches Claire 's curious eyes on him.

"Just putting the book back," Sylar explains casually and Claire, after a moment hesitation, redirects her attention to her father.

Sylar places the book on the shelf and looks over at Mohinder. Exactly as expected Mohinder is watching him closely. Their eyes meet and Sylar taps the fingers he has lingering on the book's spine before pushing it into place amongst all the other novels on the shelf.

A turn of his feet and Sylar is out the door. Mohinder waits a minute, a test of his patience, and then crosses the room. Inquisitive eyes scan the shelf and settle on the one book still jutting out slightly from the others. Quickly glancing at his team who are still consumed with their conflicting opinions, Mohinder picks the book up and begins a cautious flipping through the pages for. He is unsure what he is looking for.

In three seconds he finds the answer. On page 159 there are no typed words, rather it has what appears to be a scrawled message:

_Five minutes. Turn right. Third stairwell.   
_  
Mohinder reads the message twice and glances up at Peter who turns to look at him questioningly. Blanking his mind Mohinder looks back at the book. The scrawled writing twirls and shakes, reappearing as a typed missing page from the novel. Mohinder closes it and brings it with him to his old spot where he pretends to read it out of boredom, mentally counting down the minutes.

At the six minute mark Mohinder clears his throat. Four sets of eyes look to him.

"I need some fresh air and you four sound like you're still going to be awhile," Mohinder says as he passes by them and heads towards the door.

"Don't go far," Peter replies mindfully.

Mohinder knows he should keep quiet, nodding his agreement, and leave without further delay, but his irritation at his treatment as some afterthought manifests in sarcasm.

"Well considering I still don't know where the hell I am I'll try to stay close by."

Bennet rolls his eyes condescendingly, muttering that everything is on a "need to know basis," and Peter takes on a firm look of annoyance. Only Claire and Hiro seem somewhat sorry for his predicament; stuck listening to the rest of them while being so easily dismissed, despite having a valid opinion. In that regard there seems to exist a mutual affection.

"Just watch yourself," Peter insists. "I don't want you getting hurt."

"I'll keep that in mind the next time we end up in Fallujah," Mohinder retorts but seeing Peter grimace at the mention of that night's nearly fatalistic mistake does not give Mohinder a sense of victory.

With a sigh Mohinder softly adds, "I'll be back in five minutes," and he opens the door and steps into a long hallway. He follows it to another door that takes him into an alleyway.

It is dark outside and Mohinder feels the chill in the air when the breeze blows by. Intermittently placed streetlights illuminate hazy circles; the other patches of darkness are brightened by the glow of flickering television screens on the other side of partially closed curtains and blinds.

Mohinder looks right then left taking in the empty laneway running between two sets of building strips. Turning back to the right he begins the requested trek. Head held high his eyes dance around his unreadable surroundings looking for any clues as to his geographic location.

He nearly walks by the third stairwell, catching himself just in time. His eyes follow the stairs that runs upwards to a closed door lit by a porch light while the middle section of the staircase is encased in darkness.

Mohinder steps forward then stops with uncertainty. He focuses his eyes on the darkened centre of the stairs until he sees two feet appear, stepping down step-by-step, revealing Sylar.

Moving closer to Mohinder at the bottom of the stairs, Sylar's imposing presence looms from above. With five steps left to go Sylar stops and Mohinder watches a smile spread on his face.

"I didn't know if you'd come," Sylar comments.

"Neither did I," Mohinder admits, "but I figured it may be interesting to be part of a conversation in which I'm expected to use my words."

Sylar lets out a small laugh.

"They're always focusing on the wrong things—,"

"What exactly do you want Sylar?"

Sylar lets a moment pass and teasingly asks, "Whatever do you mean? What do I want in this stairwell?"

"In this stairwell, in some hidden room I get brought to whenever you dictate a meeting!" Mohinder snaps. "I'm _allowed_ to sit in and observe—how kind—then I'm given orders for experimental research until next time. I don't appreciate being kept in the dark and I sure as hell—,"

"The work you do is important," Sylar interrupts.

"To whom?" Mohinder argues disbelieving there is any significance to the additional research he does outside of what he has always worked on.

"Me," Sylar replies stepping down another few stairs towards Mohinder.

"You mean Adam," Mohinder clarifies with irritation at the name.

"No, _me_. Adam doesn't know," Sylar hurriedly shares.

Unprepared for that answer Mohinder snaps his mouth shut with the waiting argument jumping on the tip of his tongue. He thinks over Sylar's words.

"Why should I believe you?" Mohinder demands.

"Why should I lie?" asks Sylar calmly.

"Because it's what you do," Mohinder retorts and he takes two steps up bringing him to the same stair that Sylar is on. Mohinder's unflinching eyes stare up and burn into Sylar's.

"This is none of Adam's concern," Sylar rumbles low and returns the stern look.

"Sure, this right here is all you," Mohinder taunts as he fishes for the truth in murky waters. "The meetings on the other hand—,"

"Are at his request," Sylar responds clearly.

"And you're the good little lapdog who runs in between playing fetch," Mohinder smoothly states. "Good boy."

Sylar's shoulders tense as Mohinder's words rankle him beneath his collected façade.

"I'm no ones lapdog," Sylar informs Mohinder and steps closer bringing them nearly chest-to-chest.

"Could have fooled me—,"

The words are barely out of Mohinder's mouth when Sylar grabs him by his jacket and pushes him backwards against the cold brick wall. Leaning forward Sylar brings his mouth to Mohinder's ear and speaks in a low but steady voice.

"I work for no one but myself."

"Exactly," Mohinder replies.

Surprised, Sylar leans back and looks at Mohinder expectantly, still holding him firmly by his jacket.

Slowly Mohinder raises his hands and places them on top of Sylar's, carefully unfolding the tensing grip.

"So why are you doing all the runaround for Adam. What's in it for you?"

Sylar allows his hands to be undone, his eyes never leaving Mohinder's, and he smiles inwardly at Mohinder's ability to force him into this position of admission. Sylar takes a small step back and drops his arms to his side.

"We have an agreement," Sylar answers taking another step back to lean against the wall behind him.

"His immortality," Mohinder says and they can both hear the inflection of a guess at the end.

"Eventually," Sylar confirms.

Mohinder crosses his arms along his chest.

"I'm surprised you didn't take it already," Mohinder comments curiously.

Sylar smiles. "Four hundred years have given him an advantage in anticipating varying degrees of attacks."

"Ah, so he's forcing your hand by dangling what you want in front of your face," Mohinder jeers.

"Oh, he's provided other incentives for now, Mohinder, don't you worry," Sylar draws out the sentence slowly.

There is a flash in Mohinder's eyes and Mohinder cannot say if he feels a quick jolt of jealousy over Sylar being in such close contact with another, someone who can offer a wealth of experience that Mohinder will never have. Hiro had once been in awe of the man and Peter still harbours some deep affection for him, even after learning his history. And now—

Sylar catches the brief flicker of envy in Mohinder's expression and feels a rush through his body at the suggestion. He could easily dispel the uncertainty by revealing Adam's penchants for delivering other powered people to him as an appetizer of sorts, but Sylar guesses that would only replace one concern of Mohinder's with another.

The dreadful truth for Sylar is that Mohinder is not the only one with jealousy tapping his shoulder. Sylar worries about the potential meeting between Adam and Mohinder. Knowing them both as he does, he worries that Mohinder will find the immortal far more complex a figure than he finds Sylar. Adam will most certainly find Mohinder a welcome curiosity. It is a reasoning he uses to justify the many means of keeping Mohinder further at bay.

In any case Sylar is enjoying having Mohinder off kilter.

"Well with four hundred years behind him I'm certain he knows all the tricks of the trade," Mohinder mutters.

For a few minutes they stand in a shared silence. Sylar keeps his eyes on Mohinder as Mohinder looks up the staircase then down it.

"What did you want to talk about?" Mohinder finally asks tiredly.

Sylar waits until Mohinder returns eye contact before responding.

"After everything we've been through—we've sat through—I think we both know our best interests are served by only us."

Mohinder lets out a quick laugh and says, "You're looking out for my interests?" as he gestures between them.

"Can you honestly say they are more concerned for your well being than me?" Sylar questions.

Avoiding the question they both know the answer to, Mohinder remains resistant.

"The only way you're interested in my well being is if it benefits you so why don' t we cut the bull?" Mohinder counters. "You're not nearly as enamoured with Adam as Peter still is."

Sylar sighs deeply. "For all of Adam's ideas, four hundred years has made him slightly…off."

"Having a front row seat to humanity at its finest for that amount of time would do that to a person," Mohinder deadpans.

"Mohinder," Sylar says seriously. "He wants to wipe the entire human race out of existence…to start with a clean slate."

"And you want to enslave it one day," Mohinder points out while standing tall. "You'll have to excuse me if I don't totally see the difference in your attitudes towards humanity as a whole."

"The difference is that you're still alive if I have my way," Sylar quickly replies in an attempt to get Mohinder to focus seriously on the issue at hand.

"Well then, count me in on your side—slavery yes, extinction no!" Mohinder answers just as quick. The snarky tone is undeniable.

"I'm trying to be serious," Sylar states.

"You're asking me to choose between two wrongs," Mohinder says pointedly. "I won't do that. "

"I can protect you," Sylar offers.

"Not enough," Mohinder declares.

"I can protect Molly," Sylar tries again.

"Not. Enough." Mohinder replies through gritted teeth.

"What is enough?" Sylar shouts, stepping towards Mohinder again.

"More than you'll ever offer," Mohinder says and seeing Sylar flinch at his words he adds, "It' s just not how your mind works."

"And your motivations are always pure of heart," Sylar says sarcastically. "You would never be driven by something as base as revenge."

The twitch in Mohinder's right eye tells Sylar he has hit the sore point he was aiming for.

"You want me to cut to the chase? Fine," Sylar says. "With Adam there will be no negotiations. The ones you're all involved in right now are simply a means to an end for him. With me, you… you…have a chance at something you can manoeuvre within."

"You're not putting me first," Mohinder argues.

"Neither are they," Sylar adds. "But I _am _putting you second. Can you say the same for them?"

Mohinder steps back, confusion imprinted on his face. He rubs his brow with his left hand and lets this eyes drift downwards, focusing on nothing in particular.

"Why? I don't understand why you're offering me anything," Mohinder wonders aloud.

They both let the question linger in the air. Sylar could respond with, "Well, I suppose you know me best," but he does not let those words breach the silence. A simple answer cloaked in superficial accents, much like a definitive answer encased in concrete blocks, will not suffice as the truth will never be completely laid out. It exists in scraps sporadically let forth but mostly kept under wraps. It does not make it less real, only more intense than any confession could ever convey.

Sylar stands his ground and quietly says, "Adam will expect a face-to-face next time—mostly with Peter who he has been looking forward to seeing again…and then Hiro who he still demands revenge on."

"And you don't?" Mohinder half-heartedly jokes.

"The thought crosses my mind every time I see Hiro," Sylar replies, "but I have other things to focus on."

Their eyes clasp onto each other, holding for a few seconds that manage to feel like a collection of lifetimes passing one after the other.

"You and I should meet before that face-to-face, when we have time to actually discuss our plan of action," Sylar continues. "There are some things you'll need to know about Adam…and some things that I'll need your help with."

Mohinder sighs over his trepidation at what is unfolding undercover in the isolated stairwell. He feels as if each decision he makes only leads him further away from the person he once was. Trying to hold on to some semblance of himself is a trial by fire and the fear he feels just beyond the darkened creases of his mind is that the person he is becoming is his true self. It is not that he dislikes the person whose reflection now stares back but it is far more difficult a reality than he ever set out for. Then again there has always been a part of him that thrives on the challenge of uncertainty, of facing off against mounting, staggering odds and surviving.

"Mohinder?" asks Sylar concerned with Mohinder's apparent worry.

"Where are we, Sylar?"

"What?"

"Where are we? In the world?"

Sylar gives Mohinder a small smile that he hopes does not seem patronizing.

"It's better if you don't know."

"Why?" Mohinder asks forcefully.

"So that it can't be used against you," Sylar replies, purposely vague with the details.

"Look, if you can't even tell me where we—," Mohinder begins to push back in an act of defiance.

"Mohinder?"

Both Mohinder and Sylar's heads snap towards the bottom of the stairs at the sound of Peter's voice calling out from down the alley.

"Damn it," Mohinder mutters and starts to head down the steps.

He is stopped by Sylar's hand on his left arm, holding him in place. Mohinder looks behind him, tilting his eyes up to Sylar's urging expression. It demands an answer and Sylar refuses to let go without one. Mohinder only takes a moment to contemplate his response. Even with his steadfast arguments of resistance he has suspected long ago the answer he would give if it ever came to this. The lesser of two evils, this one feels to be something he can handle with a better grasp of the stipulations demanded. This one gives him a chance to fight back, to undo inevitable wrongs.

"You know where to find me," Mohinder says and watches Sylar until Sylar gently releases the grip he has on Mohinder's arm.

Stepping down the stairs Mohinder walks into the alley to see Peter approaching him from only five feet away.

"Peter," he says, his voice reacting in surprise to Peter's unexpectedly close proximity.

Mohinder looks up the staircase but Sylar is no longer there. Looking back at Peter he is met with a curious expression as Peter stops in front of him and glances up the empty stairwell.

"You okay?" Peter asks worriedly.

"Yes, just—uh, ready to go home," Mohinder says.

Together they begin to walk along the alley back to the building where the meeting has just finished.

From the darkness of the stairwell Sylar listens to their steps receding.

"So, are you going to get me home in one piece?" Mohinder teases jokingly.

"Keep that up and I'll drop you off in the Bay of Pigs Invasion," Peter cracks and for the first time that night they share a good-natured smile.

"You couldn't even if you wanted to," Mohinder laughs softly.

Placing his hand on Peter's shoulder Mohinder looks behind him towards the direction of the stairwell. He wonders if Sylar is watching. He knows that Sylar is watching. Mohinder gives a brief nod and then looks back at Peter who is muttering, "Don't push it Suresh," with a chuckle.

Holding on, Peter phases them both through the door.


End file.
